


another state of consciousness

by platonics



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caretaking, Consent Issues, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Hair-pulling, Lingerie, Major Character Undeath, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Injuries, Nonbinary Character, Other, Past Abuse, Praise Kink, Recovery, Scars, Scratching, Sexual Inexperience, Supernatural Elements, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 08:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20525216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonics/pseuds/platonics
Summary: "tell me how you've never felt delicate or innocent. do you still have doubts that us having faith makes any sense?"sometimes having seen someone at their lowest is what makes you fall for them.





	another state of consciousness

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place in an au where himiko resurrected korekiyo with the necronomicon, and is set about a week after the resurrection (or ~2 weeks after the 3rd trial). title & quote in the summary are from show me love by tatu!
> 
> please note the tags! this contains some discussion/mentions of korekiyo's sister having sexually and emotionally abused them, and them having some very faulty ideas about consent as a result. there's also some mentioned transphobia towards them from kaito (sorry momota stans), and dark topics in general, so be careful! 
> 
> <s>pls don't read this if we're friends, i'm v embarrassed and i'll cry thx</s>

What was the name of that idea Himiko had read about once, about the embracing of imperfect things? Kintsukuroi, yes, that was it. Mending with gold, fixing cracks and scrapes with something beautiful. There was no molten gold here, nothing close, but even so, she understood. Beautiful for having been broken...

Something else she’d read, seemingly unrelated on the surface, was about the evolutionary reasons for stigma. Not the sort of thing she normally read, but it had stuck with her. It was human instinct, the theory said, to avoid those who might be sick or not able to produce healthy offspring, or something like that. She couldn’t remember all the details, truth be told. Whatever the case, it led to an instinctive aversion from those with visible disabilities or scars.

These thoughts kept tumbling around in her head, disjointed and foggy. There was a fly buzzing in the corner of the room, flitting around against the ceiling. It set an odd sort of tempo, keeping her from getting entirely lost in her thoughts. Well, that and the solid feeling of a hand resting against her leg. Her own hands were trembling and it showed, the bandage she was wrapping going slightly crooked. She could feel their amused gaze on her, making her feel as small as that fly. Trying to hide their embarrassment at needing her help, maybe. 

Burn scars often caused problems with stiffness and range of motion. This was another thing Himiko had learned, in a thick, dusty medical book she’d dug out in the library. Of course, being dead tended to cause those things too, so who was to say which was to blame, really?

“Are you feeling alright, Yumeno-san? I would have expected you to be over any fear of me by now. It would be foolish for me to harm anyone here again.” One thing that remained the same was their voice. It was still just as enthralling as ever, still deadpan more often than not, still beautiful. 

It made her even more shaky, face hot with self-conscious embarrassment. Clumsy fingers grazed their wrist, where there should be a much faster pulse. She knew from experience that if she pressed her thumb there she’d struggle to feel anything, just a slow, weak flutter that seemed vastly insufficient. It was as if their heart was bored, annoyed that it didn’t get to quit after all. The scars she noticed here weren’t new. They were old enough to be nearly invisible from certain angles, but still burns like the rest — a small huddle of perfect circles that were unmistakably from cigarettes. As for the new scars, they were infinitely milder and more sparse than they should be. Being returned with life-threatening injuries would make the necronomicon pointless, she supposed. Still quite painful though apparently, if the way they moved so gingerly was any indication. 

“Sorry,” Himiko mumbled, pulling the gauze tight. “I’m fine. And I’m not scared of you, don’t be stupid. Why would I spend any time around you if I was?” 

“Hmm.” It wasn’t even a _word, _just a hum, and yet it sounded so judgmental anyway. She’d run out of bandage. They always managed to do it so neatly, a single length of gauze for each side, forearm to fingertip. Himiko, meanwhile, had run out midway down their palm, staring with magician’s eyes to try to figure out the trick. Maybe they really did have some sort of space manipulating magic, with their eating masks and too-short bandages. 

“It’s alright,” they said after a few seconds of silence. “I have no plans to handle valuable artifacts today, so this will do.” They’d been idly drumming their uncovered fingers against her thigh as they spoke, and then stopped abruptly, as if they hadn’t realized they were doing it. 

“Could’ve done it yourself then,” Himiko grumbled under her breath. “It’s not that hard. You shouldn’t waste my magic, you know.” She carefully secured the end of the bandage and moved on to their other arm anyway. Neither of them mentioned the dropped teacup from that morning. That had been the only time she ever heard Korekiyo swear. Or raise their voice, for that matter, excluding their trial.

“Momota is afraid of me,” they said a few moments later, entirely out of the blue. “I wonder why that is. Many people fear anything they deem to be ‘supernatural,’ but these things aren’t inherently any more or less dangerous than entirely mundane occurrences. Granted, in Momota’s case, I believe he was never fond of me in the first place. However, it’s foolishness to think that avoiding reminders of death will allow you yourself to escape its clutches.”

“Well, is he afraid of you because you used to be dead, or because you used to be a serial killer? Those seem like two different things.” The fly stopped buzzing. Himiko shifted uncomfortably. Korekiyo just shrugged, as if to say it didn’t really matter to them one way or the other. 

“It comes back to the occult either way, doesn’t it? Ah, well, it doesn’t bother me as anything other than a matter of academic curiosity. He is not the harshest disciplinarian I’ve encountered.” It was said in an eerily placid tone, as if the abuse they’d endured was really no big deal at all. They stretched then, catlike, distracting her so thoroughly that she froze in place, eyes glued to them. It occurred to her suddenly that maybe they’d wanted her help just to feel a touch that wasn’t violent. 

Himiko’s hand rested limply against Korekiyo’s arm, bandages temporarily forgotten. Their hair was unusually messy, falling into their face and spilling past their shoulders like wet, tangled seaweed, or blackout curtains. It might look almost debauched under other circumstances, without blood on their face. Their mask was cast aside for now, as was their jacket, and the drying blood mingled with smeared lipstick, staining their lips redder than red. A few drops marred the collar of their shirt, top button undone. Himiko was able to catch a glimpse of a pale collarbone, looking sharp enough to cut glass. They’d always been thin, almost skeletal, but it helped give them an almost surreal aura now, like something not quite human.

Pinkish scar tissue climbed above their collar like ivy, edges just barely visible. They were the most beautiful person she’d ever seen. Himiko’s fingers itched to pop open every button.

“He shouldn’t have hit you,” she said a little breathlessly, forcing herself to return her attention to the bandages. “Or said all that stuff. Some of it was really out of line.” _Not even enough of a man to punch?_ What had that been about? There were plenty of justifiable insults to fling their way, so why bring gender into it?

Himiko knew she couldn’t have stopped Kaito from hitting them. She was far too weak, and it was inevitable that it would have happened eventually. The insults, though...she felt bad for not intervening then. She’d seen Korekiyo tense up as he muttered on and on about masculinity and ‘how men should act,’ and she hadn’t said anything. Partially because she wasn’t sure if it was her place to do so, but partially because she was, selfishly, scared to challenge Kaito so openly.

“I’ll admit that being, ah, ‘bitch slapped’ by a hotheaded astronaut isn’t on my preferred list of activities, but you needn’t worry. I expected some level of...retaliation for my actions. As for his commentary, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before. What people like him fail to recognize is that I simply do not care. Why should my alleged failure to be sufficiently masculine be insulting when I have never aimed for it in the first place?”

Himiko snorted, biting back a laugh. The confrontation with Kaito hadn’t been funny, but Korekiyo’s enunciation certainly was, the air quotes almost audible. Truthfully, the slap on its own probably wouldn’t have even left a mark. The blood had been from the zipper of their mask cutting their lip. A lucky hit and nothing more. Still, she felt oddly protective.

She wasn’t sure if they were really as apathetic to their classmates’ ignorance as they claimed to be, and she wished she could protect them from that too.

“Does it hurt?” she asked automatically, smoothing her fingers over their newly wrapped forearm.

“Are you truly asking me whether a superficial cut hurts when I was _executed_ a mere two weeks ago? You...are a fascinating individual.”

“I...yeah, I guess that was a stupid question,” Himiko mumbled. After spending several days in such close proximity, she would have thought talking to them would be a little easier by now. She frowned down at the comforter, picking at a loose thread.

“Each and every observation is valuable in anthropology, regardless of how they may be perceived. For what it’s worth, I must say you’ve been quite remarkable this week. Perhaps I underestimated you before, Yumeno-san.”

“Shinguuji?” she asked, glancing up to meet their eyes again. “I’m just wondering...why’d you want my help today? I mean, I don’t mind or anything, but...there’s been lots of other times when it seemed like you needed it more, and you didn’t ask then.”

Their only response came in the form of a strained chuckle and a shake of their head. It was only when she moved closer, giving them a searching look, that they spoke.

“I’m not used to anyone providing that sort of attention, I suppose. I’ve always been self-sufficient.” There was no sadness or regret in their voice as they said that, but Himiko’s heart ached anyway.

“Have you ever had that? That kind of affection, I mean. I know it’s none of my business, but...”

“I’m not the sort of person who needs companionship. My role in this world is simply that of an observer. Engaging in direct involvement any more than necessary would only—”

Himiko didn’t let them continue. She moved closer still, nearly touching them now, and purely on impulse, wound her fingers in their hair, relishing the surprise reflected in those amber eyes. She didn’t pull, not wanting to cause pain, but it was clearly a possessive gesture. Her heart felt like it was tap-dancing against her ribs.

“You affect people’s lives whether you want to or not. And...I didn’t waste all that energy on bringing you back just so you could do nothing but watch forever,” she protested. Then, softer, she added, “You didn’t deserve it, growing up like that. No matter what happened after.”

“But painting me as an inhuman monster is so much easier, yes? It allows things to make sense, in the way everyone seeks to make sense of death. Even my sister has forsaken me now. What are you getting out of this? Caring for me when it goes directly against any instincts of self-preservation...” Himiko noticed that they no longer so much as attempted to deny that their sister had abused them. They rested a hand at her waist, all fresh gauze and skeletal fingers and bright nail polish. Then, the movement less graceful than it might have been before, they tugged her into their lap.

She wished she could bring Sister back to life just to have the pleasure of killing her herself. 

“I don’t know,” she said in reply. “I hate you. I don’t know.” Her hand tightened subconsciously in their hair, and she heard their breath catch, a tiny, barely audible gasp. She was kissing them before she even knew what she was doing.

They tasted of blood, strongly enough that Himiko suspected the cut on their lip had started to reopen. They didn’t seem to care though. One hand was still resting against her hip, but the other slid up her back, keeping her close. Clinging, almost, their nails like tiny pinpricks against her spine. 

Then their tongue was in her mouth, and yeah, they were definitely bleeding again. Maybe that should be a little gross, seeing as the metallic taste of blood wasn’t exactly romantic, but Himiko wasn’t about to object. On the contrary, she was just as eager as Kiyo. 

By the time she pulled away, she was breathless, face flushed. Korekiyo was in much the same state, more flustered than she’d ever seen them before. Their eyes were dark with a mix of emotions she couldn’t hope to parse, pupils dilated. 

“You...are more fearless than I realized,” they said breathily. “It’s beautiful.” 

Himiko shook her head. The compliment was a little creepy, in typical Korekiyo fashion, but it still felt like more than she deserved. She hadn’t done anything worthy of praise, had she? Gently, her fingertips trailed along the curve of their neck, and they shivered, barely perceptible. There too, their pulse was abnormally slow and weak. They shouldn’t be alive.

“You brought me back in place of anyone else, and you still have not told me why. I did not deserve a second chance, according to the value system you all uphold here.” 

“Maybe I missed you,” she replied. Her fingers trailed over their shoulder and along their side. They really were like a skeleton, all sharp angles. She could almost feel their ribs. In another moment of confidence, she slid her hand up their shirt, tracing the patchwork edges of scars she almost had memorized. That elicited a quiet hiss, a choked intake of breath, but they leaned into her touch. The ones on their back were worse, she knew, thanks to lack of treatment. Compression bandages, lotion, all the recommended things were rather difficult to do for your own back, and they’d steadfastly refused any offers of help.

“That’s impossible. You couldn’t have.”

“Huh? Why not?” 

“Have you forgotten that my primary objective is to observe? I can see how you’ve all felt about me. It’s alright. My own actions have led me to this point. If you wish for me to feel guilty for my actions, I do not. Death allowed me to see that I was...mistaken about my sister, in many ways, but I did what I felt was best at the time.” They sighed, and Himiko suddenly became aware of the casual intimacy of the moment, with her still on their lap. “Besides, why call back the dead when it will only create a burden for you?”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t know you’d be hurt. The book didn’t say anything about that. But I haven’t minded helping a little. It’s not a big deal.” Only a week, and they’d come a very long way from the person trembling in pain on her floor. 

“Does playing nursemaid appeal to you, then?” They arched one perfectly groomed brow, and Himiko shook her head emphatically once she picked up on their tone.

“Not like _that_,” she protested. Pouting slightly, she stroked the fingers of her free hand through their hair, feeling smug when their expression softened. “It’s just not a big deal, you know? I’m...trying not to think of things as a pain so much.”

“You’re incredibly strange.” Then, under their breath, quietly enough that Himiko suspected she wasn’t meant to hear, they added, “There’s no way you can care. Sister said I’d always be unlovable, that nobody could ever understand me...”

Himiko kissed them, gentler than before. 

“I don’t love you, but I think I could, with time,” she said, not even realizing it herself until the words were already out of her mouth. “I’ve liked spending time with you like this. And I want to understand you.”

“That isn’t a promise you should make lightly.” Kiyo’s voice had gotten sharper, suspicious.

“I know.” They should have realized she cared a while ago. She slept on the floor next to them that first night, when they were in too much pain to move. All week, she’d comforted them after brutal nightmares, assuring them that they were alive and safe. They never remembered in the morning, or they pretended not to. They were less confident than they used to be, more visibly wary. They’d been punished enough. Murderer or not, Himiko was so sick of all the cruelty. She bit her lip without thinking, and their gaze immediately dropped to her mouth.

“It’s true that I’ve felt more comfortable around you than I would have expected. I’ve enjoyed some of our interactions myself. If you are offering your companionship...”

Korekiyo was the one to initiate the kiss this time. Maybe they considered it easier than continuing to talk about their own feelings like this, Himiko thought. One hand still under their shirt, she ran her fingers up and down their side, skin on skin. They made a tiny noise into the kiss, pulling her closer.

They were so _warm. _How had she never noticed that? It didn’t seem possible for someone who barely had a heartbeat, and yet she felt like she was inches away from a fireplace.

Himiko dropped her head down to kiss along their neck instead after a while, experimenting with what might get the best reaction. There was a little voice in the back of her head screaming at her that she’d never really done this before, and she was about to embarrass herself horribly, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. 

“Yumeno,” they said, voice rough, no honorific. She stopped, worried she’d done something wrong, but rather than seeming annoyed with her, they looked almost...embarrassed? A rosy blush spread across their face, and they weren’t quite meeting her eyes. Korekiyo definitely didn’t seem like the type to get embarrassed about what was, all things considered, still pretty tame stuff. “I fear I am not exactly...the most desirable anymore.” 

Ah. So that’s what it was. Himiko shook her head, lifting a hand to caress their face instead. The scars didn’t bother her at all. Contrary to the gruesomeness that would be realistic for someone who had suffered similar injuries, they looked almost artful. Like spiderwebs or climbing ivy, just enough to be a spiteful reminder from Monokuma.

“I don’t care,” she said. 

“No?”

“No.” Her hands moved to the buttons of their shirt, but paused, a wordless request for permission. However, Kiyo just gave her a perplexed look, like they didn’t quite understand. 

“Can I?” she asked softly, thinking a more verbal approach might be in order. If anything, they looked even more confused now.

“You can do whatever you’d like,” they said, looking at her as if _she _was the one being weird. A few strands of hair were falling into their face again, and their lipstick was smeared beyond repair now, half of it probably on Himiko’s own face. As she was noticing that, it clicked. _Oh. _She remembered the ample evidence that their sister had gotten physical with them, and that she hadn’t particularly cared about consent. 

“I...I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to,” she said. “That’s why I asked. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Very well,” they agreed awkwardly, nodding. “If it’s that important to you, you may ask. It’s quite difficult to make me uncomfortable though, I can assure you.” With that said, they began to unbutton their shirt themself, slow and almost teasing. Their unease from just moments before was almost entirely gone.

Himiko’s eyes were glued to them, unable to look away from the expanse of pale, scarred skin being revealed. She wanted to run her hands over every sharp angle. She didn’t even realize she’d spoken again until the words were already out of her mouth.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Nonsense,” they mumbled under their breath, but she could see them smiling as they let their shirt drop to the floor. “You’re far more beautiful. You sell yourself too short, Yumeno-san.”

“Himiko.” Immediately, she felt herself blushing, and she buried her face in the crook of Korekiyo’s neck, wishing she could take it back. That was almost definitely too forward.

Rather than protesting, they just echoed her given name in a tone that sounded almost reverent, one bandaged hand running up her back. Their fingers had crept underneath her shirt, much like she’d done to them a few minutes ago. It felt like they were leaving trails of sparks anywhere they touched, like there was still a fire raging through them, merely more controlled. 

Overcome by a sudden wave of possessiveness, she kissed and sucked at the sensitive skin of their neck, wanting to leave a mark. It would be hidden by their mask when they were around the others, but _she’d _know it was there, and that was what mattered. Silent, they tilted their head to allow her more room, fingernails digging uncomfortably into her back.

“Korekiyo,” she breathed when she drew back, deciding to press her luck a little. When she said their name like that, they nearly _whimpered_, and Himiko was certain that there would be shallow scratches lining her back when she got a chance to check in the mirror. Kiyo was trembling. She would have thought she did something terribly wrong if not for the bruising kiss they pulled her into.

“I will never understand,” they mumbled against her lips. “I will never understand why you’d dare to get close to me. You’re infinitely more wonderful than anyone gives you credit for. Nobody here is worthy of touching such an angel, least of all myself.” Though quiet, their voice had a distinct tone of urgency, as though her willingness to do any of this with them was truly shocking. Two fingers had caught in the band of her bra. They made no attempt to unclasp it, and in fact, Korekiyo hadn’t even made a move to take off her shirt yet, but that touch alone was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“Even if I’m doomed to never complete my research, to never again engage in the fieldwork I love so dearly, simply existing in your presence would provide a lifetime of priceless observations.” They continued speaking, their usual whispery, almost seductive tone still tinged with desperation. “So beautiful, so perfect, all the reactions I could pull from you, and without even the slightest hint of coercion...” 

They were fumbling with her shirt now, amber eyes meeting hers with uncertainty. Himiko smiled faintly and helped them remove it, despite her embarrassment. As their gaze raked over her, their nails did the same, dragging lightly over her skin. 

“I wanted you even before this,” she said, trying not to think about the fact that she was really saying this out loud. She didn’t want to lose her nerve. “From the day we met, I just...couldn’t stop looking at you, listening to your stories, everything...”

“I regret that I was preoccupied with someone so unworthy of my time,” they said, hands still cautiously wandering her body. “I had no idea of your interest, nor do I think I would have cared then. But I can promise I will make it up to you. Utter devotion to one’s lover is a wonderful thing, yes? That’s something I still believe, despite past experience. Himiko, I encourage you to use me however you wish. I am yours.”

The look in their eyes had grown ever more intense, and when her hand ran over their chest, their heartbeat was more noticeable than it had been since they died, almost like normal. Struggling to keep up with such a surreal situation, Himiko wasn’t quite sure how to react. Unthinkingly, she shifted position slightly on their lap, and—

Oh. With a mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and something approaching pride, she realized they were hard. She didn’t know how much time she’d spent being so oblivious, but she was definitely aware now. Judging by the bemused look on their face, they knew perfectly well when the realization had set in. They’d probably watched her entire train of thought, and didn’t even have the courtesy to look half as flustered as her, despite being the one whose dick was now pressed against her thigh. 

When she didn’t pull away or otherwise react negatively, Korekiyo kissed her, deeply and without comment. Even as she responded in kind, her brain was still stuck on her previous thoughts. It wasn’t that she’d never thought about it before, but in practice it was making her mind short-circuit. The little voice in her head, the one that had been so insistent on reminding her of her inexperience before, was now singularly focused on Korekiyo’s dick.

Korekiyo, alluring and dangerous and charming, undeniably turned on because of _her. _How was she supposed to react? How did they _want _her to react? Well, perhaps the answer to that question was obvious, given their earnest invitations to ‘use them how she wished.’ Even so, Himiko couldn’t help hesitating, given what she knew about their life. The years of manipulation and abuse, the taunting by the likes of Kaito echoing in her ears, it all mingled together to create a nagging feeling of uncertainty, like she couldn’t quite believe she was allowed to touch them.

Their fingers were fumbling with her bra again, anxious and twitchy. She nodded, breathless. As the clasp came free, Kiyo moved to lean back against the pillows almost languorously, tugging her down with them. In the seconds before they did, she was awestruck by just how gorgeous they looked, laid out like a tableau before her. Long hair fanned out around them, inky dark against the sheets. Their eyes were dark with arousal, winged liner still flawless, unlike the rest of their makeup. The bandages had started to come loose around their wrists, ends fluttering whenever they moved. The jut of their collarbones and hips verged on concerning, just as noticeable as the tendrils of scar tissue woven across their body. Some petered out into nothing, but others continued, curling around to their back or vanishing beneath the waistband of their pants. Pants that didn’t leave much to the imagination, as it turned out.

“What?” they mumbled a few seconds later, jolting her out of her attempts to memorize each and every detail of them.

“Nothing,” Himiko replied. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are.”

They huffed out a quiet laugh, a sound that faded into something closer to a moan when she was pressed against them once again. Her fingers tangled in their hair again, tugging gently in the way they seemed to like, and one of their hands slid up to her chest in response. They were kissing and nipping at her collarbone, seemingly content to let her decide when and if to escalate things.

“Kiyo,” she murmured breathlessly, and she felt them grin against her.

Emboldened by that, she allowed her free hand to trace the winding paths of scars down their chest and stomach, continuing beyond the point at which her self-consciousness said she ought to stop. Down, down, until she palmed them through the rough fabric of their pants and their breath hitched audibly. Shameless, they arched into her touch, with a breathily mumbled ‘yes’ that removed any lingering doubts she may have had. Aside from their brief hesitance earlier about their scars, they clearly weren’t self-conscious about their body in the slightest.

Repeating the action earned her a similar response, albeit less verbal, coupled with a hand sliding up her thigh, under her skirt. It was more thrilling than she would have expected, being able to affect them so easily. They’d been murmuring little praises under their breath on and off, lavishing her with all sorts of compliments. She did the same now as she started to undo their pants, calling them good and perfect and beautiful as she bit back any more embarrassing noises in response to their touch.

The look in their eyes as she said those things was so vulnerable, so hesitant to believe her. It was almost jarring in its innocence, juxtaposed with everything else about the situation. Himiko realized that she’d lied earlier. She loved them a little already. The next phrase that slipped off her tongue was ‘my love.’

She slid her hand into their pants, and her fingertips brushed lace. It shouldn’t have been very surprising, but it was, pleasantly so. Korekiyo Shinguuji owned lacy lingerie. 

“I must admit, Himiko,” they said, never faltering in their own ministrations, “that I had a feeling about today.”

It took a moment to parse what they meant, but when she did, her altered realization was even better than before. Korekiyo Shinguuji owned lacy lingerie, and was wearing it _for her._

Abruptly, just as she was about to tug their pants down, there was a knock on the door. Himiko froze, gaze darting from Kiyo to the door and back again. Probably just someone wanting to spend time with her. She could, theoretically, hurry to make herself decent and answer it, but this was a moment she definitely didn’t want to interrupt. They gave her a questioning look, and she shook her head, staying right where she was. There was another knock. It stoked her irrational paranoia that the person outside knew what was going on, was somehow aware that she was in bed with her hand on Korekiyo’s lace-covered cock, but the sound of departing footsteps followed a few moments later.

“My my, don’t tell me you prefer my company to that of your friends.” Kiyo gave her a slow, lazy grin, more honest than any she'd seen from them before. Sunset light filtered in the window, bathing them in its warm glow.

“So what if I do?”

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be more nsfw but i chickened out tbh...if there's anyone out there who wants to write a continuation...


End file.
